


i was just a kid (i think you're the only one)

by chasingjupiter



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Coming of Age, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lee Jihoon | Woozi-centric, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Slow Burn, homoerotic quidditch experiences, single parent jihoon, wonhoon bffs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27569302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingjupiter/pseuds/chasingjupiter
Summary: “Daddy, who was your first love?”Jihoon smiled down at his ten-year old daughter. “It’s a long story,” he warned, smoothing the bedspread. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”Jihoon tells his daughter a bedtime story.Night after night, memory whisks him away to a youth sheltered by castle walls and singing suits of armor. And, by his side through the seven years, his first love. He learns that Fate can't be divined through crystal balls in the North Tower.
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	1. night one

**Author's Note:**

> this is more of a comfort fic for me (scrolling through the list of all hp spells to find the right one... ah yes, comfort) so it's not going to be . a literary masterpiece or anything . uhhhh brace yourself
> 
> thanks for reading (well.. assuming you don't get bored and click off... but thanks anyway) and i would love to hear your thoughts and whatnot! <3

“Daddy, who was your first love?”

Jihoon smiled down at his ten-year old daughter. “It’s a long story,” he warned, smoothing the bedspread. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Yes, of course,” she said seriously, clutching her tiger plushie. “I want to know all the details. Everything from the classes you had together to the last time you saw her.”

“Well, for starters,” he began kindly, “My first love was a ‘he.’” His daughter gasped and covered her mouth, apologizing quickly. “It’s okay. Well, if you must insist, I’ll tell you all about it. Even the shoes I wore when we first met.” 

She nodded and snuggled into his arm, closing her eyes in preparation.

Jihoon thought back to a time when he could change his hair color at will without being openly mocked, to a time when he considered passing an exam to be the most important thing in the world, to his youth. A youth sheltered in stone walls and high turrets, one illuminated each and every day by spontaneity.

“I’m waiting!” his daughter urged, opening one eye impatiently.

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, amused. “I met him on the first day of school. I was nervous, but pretending to not be, and that made me all the more jittery. You see, I was afraid of the Sorting. My entire family was Slytherin, and I didn’t want to ruin the tradition or disappoint my parents. I was studying anxiously the entire train ride, not even chatting with Uncle Wonwoo.”

“You and Uncle Wonwoo were friends before you went to school, right?” she interrupted.

Jihoon hushed his daughter. “Yes, now be quiet and close your eyes, or you’ll never fall asleep.”

“I don’t wanna,” she mumbled sullenly, closing her eyes with a pout.

“You must,” he told her, “or I won’t finish the story. So be a good girl and try to listen quietly.”

She sighed and complied, too eager to hear the rest of his story.

“Now, where was I? Right, the first day of school…”

Wonwoo jabbed him in the side.

“Ow,” Jihoon vocalized flatly, making to shove him back. “What’s wrong with you?”

“We’re still gonna be friends, right?”

“Huh?”

“When we get into different houses,” Wonwoo clarified. “We’ll still be friends?”

“Who says we’re going to be in different houses?” he challenged.

“We’ll still be friends?” he repeated, unyielding.

Jihoon sighed. “Of course, Won,” he assured the other. “Even if you’re in dumb Gryffindor. We’ll find a way to stay best friends.”

Wonwoo wrinkled his nose. “You think this”—he gestured to his wire glasses, lanky frame, and neatly pressed uniform— “is Gryffindor material?”

Jihoon snorted, acknowledging the evident with a curt “True” as Professor Kye swept past the line of first years, reminding them to stay silent.

When he arrived at the head of the line, he projected his voice, announcing that they were just about ready to begin the Sorting Ceremony. Despite his reminders, the line erupted into fierce whispers. Among them, the fiercest of all was a boy with chubby cheeks, who was practically quivering with excitement as he hissed to his neighbor, a tall, nervous-looking boy who also quivered. Not in excitement like his companion: he quivered in obvious fear of Professor Kye glaring at the pair.

“You, what’s your name,” the professor asked sharply.

The boy turned to meet the professor’s eyes boldly. “Kwon Soonyoung, sir!” he declared, hand flying up in a salute, making the line dissolve into stifled giggles. The boy beside Soonyoung shrank back and tried to join with the wall, to no avail. The professor looked him over, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let him burn in humiliation.

“Mr. Kwon,” Professor Kye said slowly. “Please do not speak when asked to remain quiet, especially for an event like this. And straighten your tie, please. We will be entering momentarily.”

Jihoon snickered at the sight of Soonyoung’s crooked tie and red ears. That boy, he was shameless. Clearly cut out to be a blundering Gryffindor. Suddenly he didn’t feel as nervous as he was on the train. He felt certain that things would fall into place: Wonwoo would join Ravenclaw, he would join Slytherin, and Kwon Soonyoung would join Gryffindor. At worst, he would be in Ravenclaw with Wonwoo, and that wasn’t even that bad an outcome.

Professor Kye glanced back at them, motioned for them to follow him, and led them into the Great Hall with a sweep of his wand, the large doors soundlessly revealing the inner chamber. As the first years gawked at the long tables and floating candles, Jihoon fixed his sight on the stool with the famous tattered hat. So that was the blasted object determining his entire fate. He corrected himself internally: no, it wouldn’t do to be rude. So there sat the legendary magical hat. What a glorious hue of dirt brown. He hoped the hat was listening to his praises. Maybe if it was flattered it would let him choose his house.

The hat sprang to life and warbled its song, making Jihoon try very hard to control his facial expression. It wouldn’t do to offend the hat so quickly. He focused on Wonwoo ahead of him, who was gazing in awe at the decrepit hat. He really commended Wonwoo, he thought. He should’ve taken up acting lessons or something. Now that was a performance he could nearly believe in.

The hat concluded its song with a shout, and everyone broke into applause, especially Wonwoo, who looked like he was dying to try on the hat. Jihoon clapped out of politeness but took much more pleasure in watching Wonwoo.

“When I call your name, please go forward and put on the hat,” Professor Kye instructed, unrolling a scroll from his pocket and calling for the first student. They were going in alphabetical order, Jihoon noticed, and he quickly surveyed the line. Wonwoo would go before him, lucky him. Even clumsy Kwon Soonyoung would go before him. 

The letters crawled by, a blur of names. Some surnames he recognized, others he didn’t. Some names stuck in his head, others didn’t. There was Changkyun, whose parents sometimes called to visit, but the two sons had never really hit it off. Then Wonwoo, who looked like he was about to pee his pants just from his tense posture. He practically waddled to the stool and, to absolutely no one’s surprise, was quickly placed in Ravenclaw. Wonwoo, on his way to the table, sent Jihoon a look that read something like  _ I’m happy but you better not screw this up also I need to use the loo.  _ Maybe Jihoon was reading it wrong.

A Jung, Kang, and Kim later, Kwon Soonyoung strided to the stool, his tie still slightly crooked. The hat was barely lowered to head before it screamed out “Gryffindor!” and Soonyoung grinned proudly to the polite applause, chest sticking out like he had just won an award. Jihoon curled his lip but didn’t otherwise show his disdain. He was getting nervous as his turn approached—inexplicably so, as he felt confident that he would be placed in Slytherin. Still. He was nervous.

“Lee, Jihoon!”

He tried not to waddle nor stride to the stool. Instead, it came out as an odd stiff march, the clap of his polished dress shoes syncopated with the tick of a shoelace a little too long. That was fine. His steps matched with his heartbeat, not a panicked tapping but a slow, echoing thump every few seconds that felt like a narrowing corridor. An ominous, looming fate ahead.

The hat settled on his head with a rustle, and he dimly wondered if now was the right time to start flattering the hat. Good, quality leather, he thought, then grimaced. Was the hat made of leather? No, maybe he should find another compliment. Cool… pointed tip.

He heard the hat cackle in his head, and he physically stopped himself from squirming.  _ Eleven year olds get more and more bizarre with every batch,  _ it muttered,  _ but in the end they’re all the same. You’ll thank me for this, kid.  _

And as Jihoon began to sigh in relief, the hat cawed out a cacophonous “Gryffindor!” that rang in his ears. The hat was lifted off his head and he stood up numbly, barely registering the confused clapping from the Gryffindor table. He glanced at the Slytherin table, and started in that direction, before halting abruptly and correcting his path. As he walked past the table, students whispered, as they had most likely known of his family name, and unlike the other newly minted Gryffindors, he didn’t receive any whoops or cheers. All he heard was “Lee?” as he walked past, feeling cold, until about halfway down the table suddenly there was a shout of “Jihoon! Yeah! Let’s go!”

He lifted his eyes to the source of the noise, and immediately recoiled. It was Kwon Soonyoung again, cheering him on like they were friends. Which they decidedly were not. In the same house or not, they were not friends. Soonyoung eagerly scooted over and patted the spot next to him. He was sandwiched between two older students, one who smiled politely at him and the other who looked sort of embarrassed to be there. 

Jihoon, to his consternation, felt compelled to sit down there with them.

Instead, he walked past them, straight to the end of the table, and wedged himself on the bench, pointedly ignoring Soonyoung, who slumped briefly but then shrugged off the rejection. “That was rude,” he heard someone say, but he just kept his eyes trained on the wooden slab of table before him and listened to the letters scramble on. What was he going to tell his parents?

  
  


“That was mean, Daddy…” 

“I know,” Jihoon told her, smiling softly to appease her. She had cracked open one eye to fix him with a disapproving gaze. “Don’t worry, I figured that out before I did too much damage. It took a long time for me to realize, but Soonyoung never gave up on me. He always greeted me in the hallways like we were friends and in the library, he would sit down next to me even when I told him to go away.”

His daughter hummed. “Why?”

Taken off-guard, he blinked, thinking. “I’m not sure,” he finally said, honestly. “Maybe he just pitied me.”

She opened both of her eyes, looked at him as seriously as a nine-year old could, and yawned. As her eyes fluttered shut again, she murmured, “Maybe he just liked you.”

He opened his mouth, closed it. Pressed his lips together. “Maybe,” he conceded gently.

  
  


“Good morning, Jihoon!”

Soonyoung dropped his textbook on the table with a heavy thud, making Jihoon startle and glare up at him. “You looked like you were falling asleep over your congee, so,” he shrugged.

Jihoon looked back down at his congee. It was getting mushy and flavorless. “It’s not a good morning,” he said.

The other sat down and piled his plate with toast. “I beg to differ,” he returned casually. “But why do you say so?”

“Did you forget about the graded Charms exercise we have today?” he asked sullenly. Only Soonyoung could afford to forget about Charms. 

“Ah! Right.” Soonyoung munched on his toast, then tilted his head. “Wait, so why isn’t it a good morning?”

Jihoon sighed, didn’t bother to reply. He was busy stirring his congee around and around, watching it swirl into a congealed spiral. As the shrimp got sucked into the center, Soonyoung dropped the topic of Charms and moved on.

“Jihoon, what are you doing after classes today? Do you wanna practice together? I asked Madam Yoon and she said we could borrow the brooms. I know you probably don’t want to use boring old Cleansweeps but I bet you can’t beat me without your fancy broom! What do you say, huh? It’s not supposed to snow today!”

Jihoon shrugged. “I don’t even want to try out next year. What’s the point?”

“Then help me,” he pleaded. “C’mon, it’ll start getting too cold to practice soon! Don’t you want to be like Seungcheol?” Soonyoung sat up and flexed his left arm. There was no obvious change. “Getting on the team in second year, wow! He’s so cool.”

Sounding surly, he muttered, “It’s not like he invented Quidditch or anything.”

Soonyoung ignored that. “Anyway, I want to be like him! So you have to help me, okay? You’re my only friend who knows how to fly. And you’re good at it, too! I still think you should try out next year. Even if you say you don’t want to play for Gryffindor. What if we made it on the team together? You’d want to play then, right? We’d have so much fun!”

Jihoon grunted.

“So are you up for it? Today, after Potions? Please?”

He stirred his congee absently. Maybe he could. It would be nice to soar around the pitch lazily. Even in the cold weather, flying tended to clear his head. Soonyoung would probably be loud and not let him fly slow laps, but he supposed a little exercise couldn’t do him any harm. He missed toying with the Quaffle on the mini-pitch at home.

“I…” The spoon got stuck in the thick congee, and Jihoon let it go, watching it sink. “I’m good, thanks.”

“What? Why?” Soonyoung pouted, collapsing on his plate of toast. “Ugh. Fine. You’re breaking my heart here, Jihoon.”

“I’m not,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” Soonyoung huffed. “I’m leaving. But I’ll ask you again tomorrow, so be ready.” And with that he left his toast and stamped out of the hall, off to who-knew-where, leaving Jihoon feeling a little bad but not so much that he followed him out.

He looked down. The spoon had completely disappeared into the bowl. So. That was that.

Sitting by the window in winter was never really a good decision, Jihoon discovered.

There was an incessant cold emanating from the glass, and even though the view from the towers were good, the shivering wasn’t worth it. The Divination classroom was always cold, too. Professor Choi never used heating charms, to his students’ chagrin. Jihoon didn’t mind because he only ever came up here in his free time, but now he was slightly wishing for a lit fireplace.

He was trying to finish an essay for History of Magic, but, like most first years, he didn’t care all that much about the Soap Blizzard of 1378, however funny it sounded. His parchment was about half-covered in his inky scrawl, and about a quarter of that was crossed out. The murky gray light coming from outside the window churned over his essay, and naturally he turned to look out the window. The day was thickly overcast, the distant hills a dreary wet green, covered in some patches of white here and there. It was one of the warmer days of the winter, but just last week it had snowed several inches.

The Quidditch Pitch was just visible from the North Tower. Though it was a lucid day, Jihoon squinted. As he had suspected, there was a little black figure swooping in and out of the stands. As he watched, it dove to the ground, then sharply turned back up. He could almost imagine seeing Soonyoung’s messy black hair entangling with the wind, and the red tint to his cheeks and nose.

Soonyoung floated around in circles around the pitch once more, then slowly lowered himself so he was barely above the stands. The pace was a melancholy one; Jihoon thought he looked kind of lonely with just the wind, the brightly colored flags fluttering.

Before he knew it, he was rolling up his essay and tucking it into his bag, then clambering down out of the Divination classroom. He didn’t really know why he was hurrying. He was sure Soonyoung would keep being battered by the cold until dark. Even so, he nearly tripped over himself in his rush out.

He nabbed a Cleansweep on his way to the pitch, figuring he might as well fly if he was going to head out there. When he arrived, Soonyoung was still hovering in the air, looking up at the castle somewhat forlornly. Jihoon kicked off the ground with practiced ease and joined Soonyoung in the air, not saying anything until the other registered his presence. Bucking a little off the broom, Soonyoung gasped, clutching his chest. “You scared me!” he yelped, but despite his words he was grinning widely, warmly.

“Hey,” Jihoon said.

Soonyoung did a little twirl. “I thought you weren’t coming,” he said, a little shyly.

Soonyoung’s cheeks were, indeed, pink and shiny. The tip of his nose was a bright red, and Jihoon figured if he were to touch it with an ungloved hand, it would be as cold as ice. Still, Soonyoung wasn’t wearing a hat or heavy coat, just a jacket and his school trousers. He must have been freezing.

“I wasn’t,” he said frankly.

“So why’d you come?”

Jihoon spurred his broom up, and he darted away from the conversation in favor of soaring high up. Soonyoung, of course, true to nature, chased after him, letting out a bright laugh that tumbled away as they climbed up in the air. Though they were both a little clumsy gaining height, Jihoon made do, and, urged forward by Soonyoung’s diligent pursuit, he smiled a little, bracing against the wind.

As they tired out, and Jihoon slowed down to let Soonyoung catch up, he smiled back at Soonyoung’s vibrant grin. “Should I say that you looked kind of lame all by yourself?” he teased, finally giving an answer to Soonyoung’s long-forgotten question.

Soonyoung kicked his heels together. “Hey! I didn’t look lame.”

“You sure about that?” Jihoon raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes!” he fumed.

  
  


Soft snores lilted pleasantly as Jihoon stood up, padding quietly over to the doorway to turn the lights off. His daughter had her plushie hugged tight to her chest, and was probably bustling away in her dreamscape. She tended to have vivid dreams, like him.

Tearing his eyes away from the sight, he flicked the light switch off, watched the night light warm up, and softly pulled the door half-closed. He had a few hours of work to do, but, mind comfortably busy, he knew it would be a tiring but happy night.


	2. night two

“I want to go to Hogwarts but I don’t want to leave you, Daddy,” she sulked. 

Jihoon chuckled. “Don’t pity your father too much,” he told her. “He’ll miss you very much, but you’ll be happy at Hogwarts, and that’s what’ll get him through the loneliness. Besides, you won’t be leaving for another few months. That’s plenty of time to spend with Daddy, so much that you’ll get sick of him.”

“I won’t!” She stuck out her bottom lip. “But... Will I make any friends at Hogwarts? I don’t think I can have a friend like Daddy there.”

“If you replace me, I’ll be very sad,” he joked. “Of course you’ll make friends. You’re a sweet little girl, and everyone will love you. And even if you act all surly and mean like your old man did, you’ll find yourself surrounded by wonderful people who’ll want to be your friend all the same.”

She looked up curiously. “You mean like Soonyoung? Your first love?”

Jihoon smiled. “Go brush your teeth and I’ll tell you all about him again tonight.”

She squealed and ran to the bathroom, and Jihoon took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He made his way over to his daughter’s room and sat down on her bed, leaning back against the wall as he thought back to where he should start for tonight.

It was raining.

It had been raining for the past five days in a row. Every morning, Jihoon woke up, stared up at the red and gold hangings on his four-poster bed, and frowned as he heard the patter of rain outside the tower.

He would roll over, check the time, and flop back, sighing. Every morning, when he finally pulled himself out of bed, the window would be speckled with rain, the clouds pressing in close to the castle. It was taking its toll on the students—just yesterday, the fifth floor main corridor had to be blocked off because there was a mysterious rain cloud manifesting right in the middle. Jihoon had had a class right before it was sectioned off, and he had skirted around the rain cloud to avoid getting wet. Soonyoung just walked through it. Maybe he hadn’t noticed it, or maybe he just didn’t care. Both explanations made sense.

The rain cloud had been taken care of, but the weather outside was as dreary as usual. Sure, it was pretty typical weather for April, but Jihoon wished they could have just one sunny day to usher spring in. He’d never thought of himself as a sunny person, but the ceaseless rain did something to him, leaving him wanting for something beyond the damp stone walls of the castle.

“Good morning, Jihoon!”

Soonyoung bounded down the staircase, cheerful despite the weather. Jihoon had taken up the habit of waiting for him in the common room, as they shared all of their classes together.

“Your tie is an absolute mess.”

Soonyoung grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah... Fix it for me, please?”

Jihoon grumbled perfunctorily and set down his fork with his left hand and taking out his wand with his right. “ _ Emancipare _ ,” he muttered, and the tie unwound itself, flinging onto the floor.

Soonyoung bent down to pick it up, and handed it to Jihoon with an abashed chuckle. Jihoon stood up from the sofa and helped Soonyoung tie it properly, tightening the knot with careful focus. “I don’t know how you survived last year without learning how to tie a tie.”

Soonyoung shrugged. “Yeah, what would I do without you?”

Jihoon let the tie slip from his grasp, the red and gold stripes sliding down to rest comfortably on Soonyoung’s shirt. “Get dress-coded,” he answered matter-of-factly. “How come you, a star Charms student, not know how to do a tie, not even magically?”

“Why would I need to learn a spell for it when I have you?”

Jihoon cleared his throat. “I’m not answering that. Let’s go downstairs, I’m hungry.”

Breakfast was a quick matter. Jihoon shoved a croissant into his mouth; Soonyoung only took a poppyseed muffin for himself but leeched off of everyone around him. When they departed for Transfiguration twenty minutes later, there was a mysterious streak of strawberry jam on his tie, making for a double stripe of red. Jihoon discreetly siphoned away the stain once they settled into class.

Professor Kye was sitting behind his desk and waving his wand to make the chalk delineate their lesson plan. There was a sketch of a beetle and a title:  _ Beetle to Button.  _ Jihoon wondered if they would ever transfigure something without alliteration.

He and Soonyoung sat next to each other at the second desk. On the first day of classes last year, he had been early and chosen his seat in the most convenient spot. As other students streamed into the classroom and pointedly did not sit next to him, he had told himself that it was a good thing. He had extra elbow space.

Then, of course, Soonyoung tumbled into class, barely on time, and without a moment of hesitation plopped himself down beside Jihoon. He had felt affronted, then a traitorous sense of relief. He didn't want to sit next to Soonyoung all year, much less work with him. Soonyoung seemed oblivious to these sentiments and turned to look at him with a lazy grin. “Looks like we're deskmates,” he'd said, sounding annoyingly satisfied.

Jihoon had ignored him, only shooting an irritated glare before fixing his eyes straight ahead and not moving all class.

Present-Soonyoung tapped his fingers on the desk. “Wake up,” he whispered to Jihoon.

“I wasn't sleeping,” he muttered back.

“Uh huh,” he said skeptically.

Neither party willing to argue, they both turned to focus on Professor Kye, who was trotting to the front of the class and waiting for everyone’s attention. A little floating paper crane toppled to the ground, and one of their peers scrambled out of their seat to retrieve it.

“Today we will be learning the theory of Beetle to Button,” Professor Kye announced. “Tomorrow we will be performing it. But for today, take out your textbooks and flip to page 98. Could someone read the introductory paragraph for me?”

Unlike the other Gryffindors, Jihoon rarely participated in his classes. And when he did, he raised his hand so low that none of the professors ever saw his hand. This usually wasn't a problem, but there was always some favoritism towards the students who participated a lot, and Jihoon could really use some cushioning for his grades.

Soonyoung never had an issue with it. He found it easy to give any question, every question, a shot, and whenever there was a pause of silence in class you could count on Soonyoung trying to fill it. It was easy to tell that most of their professors adored Soonyoung.

Jihoon wasn't jealous, just a little miffed. He was just as good as Soonyoung! It wasn't his fault that he didn't want to interrupt class every spare second. And still his professors maintained a lukewarm relationship with him. But he and Soonyoung were equally good at most of their subjects!

As they filed out of the classroom, Soonyoung hooked an arm around Jihoon, grinning broadly. “You’ve been holding out on me!” he accused good-naturedly, not even faltering when Jihoon pushed him off unceremoniously. “I didn’t know you’ve been studying from the textbook!”

“How else am I supposed to study,” he said flatly, walking faster, running his fingers along the rugged stone walls. 

Soonyoung laughed brightly. “I didn’t know you previewed for our classes at all!”

Jihoon sniffed. “It’s a… recent development.”

“Aw, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to snag number one in Gryffindor!”

He slowed his pace and stared at Soonyoung. “I am.”

Soonyoung, who had been walking in a strange pattern for the fun of it, teetered precariously, his smile wavering with his stance. “Huh? I thought you didn’t care about your grades.”

“Now what gave you that impression?”

“You never participate in class…” he tried, looking confused.

Jihoon huffed. “Well at first I didn’t think they’d penalize me for that! But if you just carefully observe the grading patterns for awhile you notice that the loud students-” he coughed and shot a glare at Soonyoung, “-tend to get higher grades! So I’m going to be loud from now on, at the expense of my dignity.”

“Ah,” Soonyoung said, drawing out the syllable as he chewed on this new information. Then he tilted his head suddenly, thinking of something. “But you’re not loud! You’re always telling me to be quiet.”

“It’s taking a lot of effort, okay?”

He brightened. “I can help! I’m a star student ‘cause I’m always talking in class, right? I can help you practice and stuff!”

“No, thanks,” Jihoon scowled. “I don’t need your help.”

“‘Kay,” Soonyoung acquiesced as they walked into the History of Magic classroom. “Well, let’s see it, then.”

Soonyoung didn’t see it.

“I’ll participate in Herbology! This class is just too boring.”

Herbology came and passed, as did Jihoon’s chance to prove himself.

“Well?” Soonyoung asked smugly.

“I’m working on it!” he said angrily, thoroughly resolving to speak, somehow, even if it was for the dumbest question in the world, in Charms.

So maybe his resolve failed him again.

As they returned to the common room, Jihoon hanging his head in shame and Soonyoung sticking his chest out proudly, he muttered furiously to himself. How could he have screwed up his last chance for the day? Now Soonyoung was going to lord it over him all evening. What misery!

“I believe you have something to say to me,” Soonyoung told him cheerfully as they climbed into the portrait hole. “Perhaps something starting with a ‘I’ and ending with ‘was wrong?’”

“On the contrary,” Jihoon said, stiffly, making a beeline for the staircase, “I have nothing to say to you.”

Soonyoung followed him, gloating all the way. “Clearly you need help! And I can be that help. I’ll help you unstick your jaw and get that mouth moving!”

Jihoon cringed, feeling hot. “I do not need you to get my mouth moving.”

“I think your fantastic performance today in class says otherwise.”

“Who says you’ll be any help!” he shouted finally, frustrated. 

Soonyoung loosened his tie and flung it onto his bed. “I, an expert of speaking in class, clearly am the superior here. Who are you to say I won’t help?”

Jihoon groaned. “I know, I know, you’re better than me in every way, blah blah blah.” In a way, it was true, though. He might even hazard saying that, beyond simply mastering the art of speaking in class, Soonyoung  _ enjoyed  _ it. He shuddered. The horror. “All you Gryffindors…”

“Um, Jihoonie, quick reminder: you’re a Gryffindor too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, wriggling out of his vest and undoing the top button of his shirt. “But I’m not like you guys. We all know that. Even the first years.”

Soonyoung chuckled upon recalling the last first year who had been shocked to discover Lee Jihoon sprawled out on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room. “Who was that girl, again? The one gaping at you last week…”

“Choi Yuna,” he answered gruffly. “She’s friends with Yerin.”

“Oh, right, right,” Soonyoung said, trailing off before regaining his focus. “Anyway!” he exclaimed, returning to the subject with fervor, “I think you would benefit from hearing the tricks of the trade from a master. I can teach you how to be a Gryffindor!” He struck a pose. “I know just what to do!”

“I really don’t trust you,” deadpanned Jihoon. He sighed. “Whatever. Teach me your ways, ‘O learned one. I have nothing to lose but my self-respect.”

“Really?!” Soonyoung yelled, excited, jumping up and down. Jihoon curled his lip, and Soonyoung stopped jumping. “Sorry. Wow! I’m so happy, you don’t even know. I’ll make you into the best Gryffindor ever! Just short of me. My little underling! I could kiss you right now.”

“Please… Do not…” Jihoon wheezed weakly, lightly banging his head on his four-poster bed. 

Soonyoung sidled up to him with a mischievous glint in his eyes, puckering his lips exaggeratedly. “C’mere, Jihoonie. Our first lesson! Gryffindors like kisses!”

Jihoon let out a shout of protest, scrambling down the stairs to the common room, and Soonyoung followed him grinning ear to ear, smiling too widely to have his lips puckered. “Come back! Come back! I still need to give you a kiss!” As he chased him in circles around the common room, their peers, some curious and some entertained and some plainly ignoring them, gave them odd looks. That first year girl, Yuna, was curled up in an armchair looking terrified.

Soonyoung ended up catching Jihoon eventually, but all he did was squeeze him into a warm, happy hug, and when he was released from his hold Jihoon couldn’t really say he didn’t learn anything from that experience.

  
  


Jihoon’s hand was cramping a little.

He had been writing this letter for ages. The sun had set while he had been pondering over the right words to ink, and now he was sitting in mostly dark, quill still clutched in his right hand. Normally he didn’t write too many letters, but his parents were awaiting his monthly update, so he had decided to finally sit down and get it done. Unfortunately, his brain wasn’t really cooperating with him.

He got up and put his things into his bookbag, making sure that he hadn’t left any of his belongings on the library table. It was getting warm - May already, he mused, as he set off for the Gryffindor tower. The portraits had started lazily fanning themselves during the afternoon. Even though it was fast approaching night, as he told the Fat Lady the password (“Bathilda”) she nodded sleepily and fanned herself with the hem of her dress. “You’d better tell them to quiet down soon,” she told him. “It’s getting late. You have sense, don’t you, boy?”

Not understanding, he shrugged and climbed in, and immediately understood. There was music playing from somewhere, probably the little toy horn on a side table if his ears were working. It was Muggle music, something upbeat and vibrant, and Soonyoung was - to no one’s surprise - dancing. He was jumping around and playing around with a boy Jihoon recognized as Kim Mingyu, a first year who had recently started clinging to Soonyoung. The other students were humming along or swaying to the beat while studying, and those who weren’t in sight were probably up in the dorms already.

“Soonyoung, what on earth are you doing?”

Soonyoung didn’t freeze or turn off the music. He kept dancing with Mingyu, who looked (rightfully so) a little frightened of Jihoon’s unimpressed expression. “We’re having fun!” Soonyoung proclaimed, doing a little twirl. “See, Mingyu’s such a good dancer! Aww, so cute!”

Jihoon crossed his arms and took some delight in seeing Mingyu cower slightly. “Don’t disturb the whole house to have your little fun,” he warned, unpacking his unfinished letter and his quill from his bag, settling on the sofa. Then, unable to resist, “Who helped you charm that horn?”

Soonyoung shrugged. “I did it myself! Is it so hard to believe?”

Jihoon reread his half-written letter. It was terrible. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“What’s that?”

“Letter to my parents.”

Soonyoung made a noise of comprehension. He turned to Mingyu, who looked awkward suddenly, and patted his head with a smile. “Run along, Mingyu. Isn’t it your bedtime already?”

“I’m only one year younger than you,” he mumbled, but scurried away.

With the younger student gone, Soonyoung pointed his wand to the horn and lowered the volume. He joined Jihoon on the couch with a resounding bounce, leaning over his shoulder to read.

“You need to cut that habit of yours,” Jihoon said, not looking up from the parchment.

“Why should I, when you let me read it all?”

He grunted. “It’s rude, you know.”

“I only do it to you, though,” Soonyoung pouted, resting his chin on Jihoon’s shoulder. “Having a hard time?”

He shrugged. Soonyoung’s chin bounced. “Maybe. It’s always like this, though.”

“I know.”

“Yeah…” he sighed, rubbing his jaw in frustration. “You know.”

They sat there in silence for what stretched into forever. Maybe two minutes. Maybe a full hour. The few other students slowly climbed up to the dorms, and they were left alone.

Soonyoung stood up abruptly, Jihoon left unbalanced with the weight suddenly gone. “I know, Jihoon, get up.”

“What?”

“Get up!” He stuck out his hand for Jihoon to take, and though shooting him a wary glance, he took his hand and let himself be pulled up to his feet. “You need to loosen up, my friend,” Soonyoung told him wisely. “It’s Saturday night! Let’s live a little.”

“I am living,” he said, but Soonyoung spun him around and he choked a little on the last syllable.

“Live more! Live like a Gryffindor! Oh, heh, that rhymed.”

The Muggle music was much softer than how it was when Jihoon first entered. It had a tinny quality to it, like it was detached from their plane of reality. “You should teach me the charm you used on the horn,” he told Soonyoung, dimly aware that they were swaying together in tandem.

“I will, later,” he assured him. “But for now, just, um, focus on me. And the music. So you don’t have to think anymore.”

Jihoon felt more than saw Soonyoung take both of his hands, felt the warmth diffuse up his arms to his shoulders to his neck to his dizzy brain. And he focused on Soonyoung, on the warmth, and let the music trickle into the background. “What song is this,” he mumble-asked, head falling forward as he tired of moving around and staying upright.

“It’s by this Muggle band I really like,” Soonyoung told him, the sound close to his ear. “They have these really cool choreographies, and they sing while dancing.”

“I’m really tired, Soonyoung,” Jihoon said, forehead pressed to Soonyoung’s collarbone. “Really, really. I don’t want to write home. I don’t know what to say, I don’t think they know me anymore…”

Soonyoung hushed him, resting his soft cheek on the top of Jihoon’s head. “I told you to stop thinking, didn’t I? Just… dance with me… and we can think about it tomorrow morning. Not tonight, though. Tonight…”

Jihoon hummed. “Okay… That sounds good. I won’t think anymore, I don’t want to.”

“Let’s not think,” Soonyoung whispered, almost into his hair. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”

  
  


“Good night,” Jihoon whispered as he pressed a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. “Sleep tight.”

He walked slowly out of the room so as to not wake her, and once he was out of the danger zone he let out a long sigh. In the living room, he carefully set up his record player and simply stood before it as it whirred to life, closing his eyes and focusing on the music. Soft, just enough to lose himself in, was the guitar, and he didn’t think. He put his thoughts away, put his memories away, into a neat little box at the back of his mind, and feeling pliable and mushy he went back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet u thought u'd seen the last of me huh :D  
> things will start picking up and getting more dramatic, maybe after next chap.. sorry for long break... am focusing on a big fic rn so i dont write this one very often. updates will probably get more frequent starting next year (that's so weird to think about!!)  
> would b nice to hear thoughts and whatnot but i get it this isn't my best LOL. not proofread. sorry, i might go back and edit when its complete  
> see you in the next! thanks for reading <3


	3. night three

“Hello, Mother. Yes, we’re keeping warm. I hope you are too?” Jihoon peered around the house from his perch on the living room sofa. “Chaeryeong, come here and talk to your grandmother.”

He handed the phone over to his daughter, who came running in and immediately scrambled onto his lap.

“Grandmama,” she cawed into the receiver. “Have you eaten yet? What did you eat? Yuck! You should have Daddy cook for you. Yesterday he made scallion pancakes for us!

“Wow, all by himself?” Jihoon heard crackle from the phone.

His daughter shook her head emphatically, even though she knew her grandmother couldn’t see her. “Nuh-uh, I helped! A little.”

“Okay, good job Chaeryeongie,” his mother told her. “What else did you do yesterday?”

Chaeryeong deliberated briefly before launching into a detailed account of her day, from the moment her bare feet touched the hardwood floor to the moment she lost consciousness and drifted into sleep. “And Daddy told me a story,” she concluded. “That’s why I didn’t have any bad dreams last night.”

“Is that so? What was it about?”

Jihoon tensed, and forced himself to relax, pulling his daughter more securely into his lap. While he and his mother were on better terms now, back then they were rather distant. He avoided sharing his personal life in his monthly letters, and as a result his mother knew very little about his school years, even now.

“It was all about Daddy and his friends when they went to Hogwarts!” Chaeryeong informed her happily. “He’s gonna tell me more tonight, right Daddy?” She looked up to him expectantly, eyes big and glowing.

He nodded. “Right.” Though he strained his ears, he failed to catch a sliver of his mother’s response, and he was left wondering apprehensively what, exactly, she would have to say.

A few minutes later, Chaeryeong having tired of babbling away to the elderly lady, Jihoon took the phone back and pressed a quick kiss to his daughter’s forehead, bidding her go brush her teeth while he spoke to his mother. As soon as Chaeryeong had bleated a pithy goodbye, his mother said, in a somewhat surly tone, “So almost thirty years later, I get to finally hear about what antics you got up to at school?”

Jihoon grimaced. “Sorry, Mother. You know I wasn’t…”

“Yes, yes,” she interrupted. “You didn’t feel comfortable sharing all of your wild shenanigans with us. Silly boy. We were surprised and disappointed, sure, but not to the point of wanting to get rid of you.”

He hummed, trying not to think of the distinctly cold tone his parents had assumed once he’d related the news of being Sorted into Gryffindor. Even if they were just taken aback at first, he’d always figured that if his parents weren’t willing to put all of it aside and love him like parents normally would, then he wouldn’t, either.

He didn’t tell her that, though. Many years had passed since then, and Jihoon had changed alongside his parents’ impressions of him. Admittedly, there was no such familial warmth until Chaeryeong came into the picture, but yes. They could put it aside. 

“Chae mentioned a certain Soonyoung,” his mother said, suddenly. “Could it be, for lack of a better term,  _ your  _ Soonyoung?”

Jihoon coughed. “Kwon Soonyoung, yes,” he told her, determinedly avoiding acknowledging her pointed emphasis. 

“It’s been awhile since I saw him around,” she said absently. “Ah! Speaking of your old friends, you were on good terms with Yoon Jeonghan, no? I just spied him last week whilst on a walk.”

“Good terms?” Jihoon made a face, grateful that she could only hear him. “You could say that.”

“He was accompanied by his—er— _ husband _ , I think,” she continued, sounding somewhat pained. “A bit of a pity. There are so few untainted Slytherin families remaining, you know, and now that's one less child.”

It might've been his lingering resentment, but Jihoon detected a faint bitterness residing in her words, as conversational as they were. “Did you greet them?” he asked politely, telling himself to put it aside _. _

“Heavens, no,” she said briskly. “His husband, you know I can't stand that man. Moon Joonhwi, yes? Goodness, I simply cannot speak to him. He looks respectable on the outside, and certainly the two make a fine-looking pairing, but once he opens his mouth- my word! A more impractical, wishy-washy man, I've yet to meet!”

“He isn't so bad…” Jihoon mumbled weakly, still processing the fact that Jeonghan and Junhui, of all people, had gotten married. Well, of course. They weren't in Hogwarts anymore. It was silly to even entertain the notion that perhaps Jeonghan had kept dating Soonyoung over all these years.

Still, a deep, confusing dissatisfaction settled in his bones.

“How Jeonghan, blessed boy, can stand him, I do not understand!” his mother barreled on, completely oblivious of Jihoon’s turmoil. “A world-renowned potioneer with a lowly pet merchant! Really, it's almost revolting.”

“Junhui is quite successful,” supplied Jihoon somewhat feebly. 

His mother ignored this remark. “Well, I’ll let you go and tend to your daughter now. Have a good night.”

“Right, I’ll call you on—”

Jihoon sighed as the call disconnected. 

  
  


With his eyes fixed on the window, Soonyoung passed him the sugar.

“Thanks.”

“Do you think it might snow tonight?”

Jihoon considered the framed view of the courtyard. “I hope not.”

Soonyoung swiveled away from the window finally and shot him a look of betrayal. “Why not? Don’t you want to see a nice flurry? Oh, like a heavy powdering of sugar, like your waffle!”

“Sugar isn’t cold,” reasoned Jihoon.

“We live in a magic castle, Jihoon! It’s always warm!”

He scratched his head and put down his quill, using his fork to tear a small piece off of his well-sugared waffle. “You’re making it really difficult to multitask, you know.”

“But if I leave you alone, I have no one to talk to,” Soonyoung grumbled.

Jihoon looked up. “Mingyu is sitting right there, talk to him.”

“But he’s not you.”

“That wasn’t stopping you yesterday.”

He crossed his arms petulantly. “Fine. Do your Potions homework. I don’t want to talk to you either.”

“Uh huh,” mumbled Jihoon, redirecting his attention to Undetectable Poisons.

Soonyoung turned to Mingyu and seized upon the younger boy, who was appropriately bewildered. “Do you think it’ll snow?”

Mingyu fixed his hair nervously. “Yes?”

“I’m not testing you,” Soonyoung said impatiently. “So, one more time: do you think it’s going to snow?”

He continued fidgeting. “Yes?”

Soonyoung slapped the table triumphantly, turning back to Jihoon with renewed enthusiasm. “See? Mingyu thinks it’s going to snow, like a good friend.”

“What does snowing have to do with being a good friend?” said Jihoon, feeling particularly unpleasant after that exchange. 

“Everything!” Soonyoung said emphatically. “You are a terrible, awful friend, Jihoon. You don’t pay attention to me!”

These slanderous claims bid Jihoon to answer when he usually wouldn’t bother. “I pay a lot of attention to you.”

Soonyoung sniffed and turned yet again back to Mingyu. “Prove it.” When Jihoon didn’t endeavor to reply, he sniffed again, more loudly. “Fine. If you’re so busy I’ll let you do your work while I talk to Mingyu here. But mark my words. It’s going to snow. Well,” he amended, glaring at the window as if it had personally wronged him. “It better.”

That night, Jihoon wondered idly if Soonyoung had somehow magically induced the weather to bend to his will all out of sheer anger. Much to his chagrin, and Soonyoung’s delight, it did indeed snow later that day.

The first flakes had begun to fall when he was in the library with Wonwoo. He was making more of an effort this year to spend time with his best friend. A lonely summer had made him realize that he really didn’t have that many friends, so he might as well cherish the ones he had now.   
He did cherish Wonwoo—he cherished the way the other was quiet and let him focus, and he cherished the way he always shared the same sentiments as Jihoon.

“It’s snowing.” 

Quill scrabbling to a stop, Jihoon peered out the window. “Yup.”

“I wish it wouldn’t snow so early in the year.”

He set his quill back to work. “Yup.”

They studied in silence for another hour, the cool emptiness of the library somewhat reassuring after a frenetic day of magic-learning. As they were packing up, Wonwoo finished before Jihoon and, after a moment of observation, spoke up.

“What’re you looking at?”

“Huh?” Jihoon tore his gaze from the window, resuming his tidying up with vigor. “Nothing.”

“The snow will melt overnight,” predicted Wonwoo matter-of-factly. “The temperatures are going to rise again.”

“Cool.”

Wonwoo approached the window and touched the glass cautiously. “I overheard you and Soonyoung this morning.”

“What did you hear?”

“You said it wouldn’t snow, and Soonyoung insisted that it would.”

Jihoon stretched out his arms over his head, yawning slightly. “And what do you have to say about that?”

“Nothing,” shrugged Wonwoo. “I just thought you might want to expand on the topic now that he’s not within hearing range.”

“And what would I be expanding on?” he inquired curiously.

Wonwoo shrugged again. “I don’t know,” he said. “Why don’t you give it a try, and we can find out?”

Jihoon laughed. “You surprise me sometimes, Wonwoo.”

“How else am I to survive as your friend?”

A little put off by the remark, Jihoon furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

Wonwoo shrugged a third time. “You like surprises, right? You like it when people are spontaneous and fun.”

“Where did you get that notion from?” Jihoon chuckled, amused by Wonwoo’s unexpected thoughtfulness.

“Whenever Soonyoung does something out of the blue, you make fun of him, but you’re also very intrigued and entertained.”

“Oh, him.” Jihoon slung his bag over his shoulder and pushed in his chair, ready to leave. “Well, just because he can be funny sometimes doesn’t mean I generally like surprises.”

“Right,” Wonwoo agreed. “So it’s just him, then?”

“It’s just him,” Jihoon echoed absently.

They walked out of the library, quiet, until they were about to part for different directions, and Wonwoo stopped Jihoon at the corner with a light touch.

He studied Jihoon’s face for a second, and before Jihoon could ask, he answered the unspoken question. “I thought you would have figured it out already. That’s why I was looking at you carefully. I hoped that you would have realized.”

“Realized what?” Jihoon was increasingly puzzled by Wonwoo’s cryptic words today. “Figured out what?”

“It’s just him,” Wonwoo said, repeating his sentence from several minutes ago with more emphasis. “It’s just Soonyoung. No one else. Think about that.” He then smiled. “Better hurry back. It’s almost curfew.”

Wonwoo swiftly walked off, leaving Jihoon completely baffled.

“I hate Ravenclaws,” he sighed finally, departing for the Gryffindor Tower.

Mingyu and Minghao were inseparable for the month of November.

Jihoon knew this because Soonyoung liked to play around with Mingyu, and as a result Minghao ended up in the Gryffindor Tower more often than he was in the Ravenclaw Tower. The second-years were not bad company, but Jihoon tended to curl up alone and watch them fool around when they were present.

Soonyoung took wild delight in devising pranks and demonstrating advanced magic for the two, who attended to him as eagerly as a pair of puppies. He rarely forgot to include Jihoon, though, and as a result Jihoon was frequently involved in their discussions, usually as the voice of reason.

“Minghao, don’t enable them,” he would often say, trying to appeal to his sense of reason, which was significantly more developed than Mingyu’s, or Soonyoung’s.

Minghao acknowledged him with an abashed giggle but barely attempted to exert restraint over the other two troublemakers.

After several weeks of this, Jihoon came to realize that this failure to act likely had something to do with the fact that Minghao watched Soonyoung with star-studded eyes. Soonyoung wasn’t that much older than them, after all, and he was bright and exciting. It made sense, he figured.

It was evident in how Minghao would sit obediently on the carpet in the Gryffindor common room—where he shouldn’t have been, incidentally—and listen to Soonyoung regale the group with tall tales for hours at a time. Whenever Jihoon saw Minghao outside of the Gryffindor Tower, he seemed like a mild-mannered and rational fellow. Past the Fat Lady’s portrait, however, he suddenly became a sweet and gullible little boy, enchanted by Soonyoung’s doting attention. 

“Minghao has a crush on you,” he told Soonyoung one day while the younger duo was in class.

Soonyoung smiled sheepishly. “Do you think so?”

Jihoon, somewhat alarmed by this reaction, squinted. “Don’t tell me you like him too.”

He burst into laughter, shaking his head. “No, no,” he denied. “It’s not that. It’s just weird to think that other people notice too.”

“I’m ‘other people,’” Jihoon noted dryly.

“Well, I guess it makes sense that you noticed, then,” Soonyoung corrected himself. “You’re my best friend. So you should be noticing this stuff. Wow!” he exclaimed suddenly, eyes widening with glee. “You’re noticing things about me!”

Feeling an inexplicable need to deny this, Jihoon said, “Technically I noticed something about Minghao.”

“Still,” Soonyoung dismissed. “What do you think I should do?”

Jihoon watched Soonyoung’s hopeful expression. “You don’t like him, right?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said shyly. “Is that bad?”

He reached over then and tugged Soonyoung’s ear, bending to some odd urge to do so. “Not at all,” he told him, relieved. “He’ll probably get over it. Like a puppy crush of sorts.”

“A puppy crush,” repeated Soonyoung, looking thoughtful. “How do you know if it’s a puppy crush or a real crush, Mr. Love Guru?”

Jihoon smiled. “No idea. I think… I think a real crush has to stem from a relationship where there is a balance, though. They have to be equal.”

“Equal?”

“Well,” Jihoon considered. “Being friends is a good start. I mean, look at you and me. We’re equal, in a way, right? If I ever had a puppy crush on someone, it would be on someone older, probably. Someone I don’t know as well.”

“Like Jeonghan,” Soonyoung offered.

“Sure,” Jihoon allowed. “Like Jeonghan.”

“But you don’t have a puppy crush on Jeonghan, right?” prompted Soonyoung.

Jihoon almost laughed. “No, I don’t. It was just an example.”

“Do you have a crush on anyone?”

He hesitated, then relaxed. “No, I don’t think so. Well, I would know if I did, I suppose.”

“Would you?” Soonyoung wondered out loud.

“Of course I would,” he said, more confidently. “I mean, how can I like someone and not know? Shouldn’t it consume my daily life?”

Soonyoung smiled, then. “Think hard, Mr. Love Guru. Anyone consuming your daily life? Occupying your thoughts day and night? Influencing your actions, invading your—”

“That’s enough,” laughed Jihoon. “You seem very invested in this topic, Soonyoung. Any crushes on your end I should know about?”

“Probably not,” Soonyoung mused. “Maybe some puppy crushes, according to your definition. But nothing that has lingered.”

“Good,” Jihoon said. He twisted his mouth, quickly adding, “For you. I don’t want to have to counsel you through any heartbreak.”

“Would you charge me, your good friend, for your services?” he sulked.

“For the amount of suffering I would have to go through to discuss your love life, yes.”

Jihoon visited Wonwoo in the Ravenclaw common room a mere two days after that heartfelt conversation. He’d figured out his riddle. 

  
  


“And what did you say to Wonwoo?” asked Chaeryeong eagerly, eyes flying open.

“I thought you were asleep,” Jihoon said disapprovingly. “Close your eyes.”

She obeyed but continued asking. “Did you ask him about what to do? How much did you like Soonyoung, Daddy? Did you like him as much as you love me? Was it as big as the ocean?”

Jihoon softened, smoothing her hair back with a light hand. “Definitely not as much as I love you,” he told her. “That would be much bigger than a measly ocean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took so long, sorry... i've been keeping busy with some other stuff you might see soon! i really wanted to update this quickly, though, so i wrote the majority of it over the past hour lol i haven't even read it over im sick of it  
> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> title from taemin's "i think it's love" - i'd say the lyrics are pretty apt for this fic (or... they will be, at least) so i recommend taking a listen :)  
> probably infrequent updates but *clenches fist* i'll really try to complete it at some point
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/moonjunseyo)


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